


The Wolf & the Bear

by Basched



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Because Tarben needs more love!, But not everyone can have him, Devoted Relationship, Established Relationship, Everyone loves Eivor..., F/F, F/M, For reasons, M/M, Male!Eivor, More tags to be added, Multi, Rejections, Tarben love!, Unrequited Love, multiple one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basched/pseuds/Basched
Summary: Eivor Wolf-Kissed has lots of admirers, but there is only one he loves.
Relationships: Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed), Randvi/Petra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	1. He said no?  (Bil)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Okay, this is my first ever story for Assassin's Creed, well, Valhalla is the first and only Assassin's Creed I've actually played (still playing!) and I love it so much! This is also the second game (after FF12) that I've ever been truly engrossed in, and so I had to do this. The characters have inspired me, especially Eivor/Tarben. These two need more love!! 
> 
> Anyways, this fic is made up of oneshots of each romanceable character in the game (maybe others too!). Each one will have a second part that's Eivor/Tarben. They will all vary in length and not necessarily be in game order (though the first chapter is Bil.) Some will rate more than others, and as I do intend some explicit chapters later, I'm rating it as thus. 
> 
> I will say this, I cannot promise speedy updates or if and when it will be finished. I have lots of my Avenger Thundershield WIPs, and other fandoms WIPs, to work on. But I shall try! 
> 
> Please enjoy!! Friendly feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> \---------------------

She was shocked when the words “thanks, but no” responded to her offer. 

At first, she thought she must’ve heard wrong, but the shake of his head and the gentle smile he gave her before he turned and walked away, said it all. 

No one had refused her offer before, even if they hadn’t returned the conveniently “lost” item she would use to start things off. The conversations would always end up with enjoyable, intimate interactions afterwards as men were only too happy to accept. 

The triplets had been a very pleasant surprise, especially when all three came back together, but out of all of the men, there had been few who had been exceptional in their stamina and expertise. 

Bil was greatly disappointed that this fine specimen of a man had declined, not that she would ever show how disappointed she was, but Bil could only imagine how glorious this one would’ve been. 

Bil wanted to call back to him, to tell him that he reminded her of her beloved Alfi, but there was no point. 

The blonde-haired Berserker had retrieved her comb but wanted none of the rewards that went with it, so she assumed that there was someone else waiting for him. 

Someone whose hair he could brush with her comb.


	2. He said no?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair combing and buns. Pure fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I long to see is Tarben with his hair down. *sigh* I think Eivor would agree.

His fingers combed slowly and lovingly through the long jet-black strands of hair. When his hand caught on a few knots, a hiss and moan of disapproval caused Eivor to chuckle. 

“You should wear your hair down more often, love,” Eivor whispered, caressing a kiss against the shell of Tarben’s ear. “I could braid it for you if you’d like… something different from that knot you force it into.” 

Tarben leaned into Eivor, to feel the brush of his mouth and beard against his face. He moaned pleasurably as Eivor’s hand still stroked and played with his hair, however, the older man knew what he was trying. 

Tarben saw past the distraction. His hand slapped Eivor’s as it tried to snatch one of the newly cooked buns from the cooling rack. A waft of flour-dusted Evior’s bracers and the golden blade cuffed to his forearm. Eivor tried again to grab a bun, but another cloud of flour puffed in his face. 

“No!” The gruff and deep Germanic response made Eivor feign shock. 

“No?” Eivor pouted, but Tarben scowled, he wasn’t falling for the sad puppy look. 

“No. To the buns or my hair.” 

“I could make you even more beautiful than you already are?” 

There was a snort of amusement, and those broad shoulders shrugged. 

“I don’t doubt you could, love, but the answer is still no.” 

Eivor sadly watched as his lover pulled away and scrunched up all that beautiful hair back into the knot atop his head. A coat of flour now dusted Tarben’s face and beard, which was worsened as he tried to brush some of it away with an already doughy hand. 

Eivor couldn’t help but smile. He did so love to watch Tarben work, especially when things got messy. While he knew why the Saxon man had to scrunch up his hair, Evior didn’t like it constricted like that. 

So, for the fourth time that afternoon, Eivor pulled the tie loose and let Tarben’s locks spill around his shoulders. 

Tarben sighed and finally gave in. 

He abandoned the work on his table and followed Eivor to his bed. He sat down, smiled and closed his eyes as the young Viking knelt down behind him and began to comb his hair.


	3. My betrothed's brother  (Randvi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the other brother she longs for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone. 
> 
> Finally managed to stop myself from constantly adding more and more to this section of the story, and I'm happy with the results to post this up. It's kinda sad, but I hope people will still like it. 
> 
> In regards to Eivor's name, and that it isn't addressed in the game that it is actually a female name, I have come up with my own explanation or headcanon, which will come up in future chapters. I've put in this chapter how I think others might have reacted to it. Kinda. I don't know, but please let me know what you think. Thanks. 
> 
> Enjoy. (So not betaed) 
> 
> \---------------------------------

Upon her first meeting with her betrothed, Randvi had been pleased. 

That hadn’t been the case when she was first informed about the arrangement. Randvi didn’t want to be married to someone she didn’t know and hadn’t met, and certainly not to anyone from a rival clan.

She wanted to be a shieldmaiden, wild and fierce and more than anything she wanted to bring glory to her clan through battle. It was not as if she had a choice in the matter. 

Randvi considered herself fortunate that it was Sigurd she was marrying and not some fat ugly and foul-smelling man over twice her age. The young Styrbjornsson was the same age as she and was very pleasant on the eye with his fiery red hair, tall handsome physique and charming smile. A lot of the women of the Raven clan were clearly jealous of Randvi, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Sigurd wasn’t the brother she fell in love with. 

It was the Varinsson who had captured her heart. 

Some drengir of her father’s clan mocked the young man about his name. 

They had been specifically warned not to do so by Styrbjorn himself, it was even explained why, but they ignored it. They didn’t realise they were accusing the clan’s strongest drengr of being weak, which he certainly wasn’t. 

Ten of her father’s best and most experienced warriors, within seconds of uttering their taunts, had collapsed to the ground with broken bones and bloodied faces. 

Randvi had felt her heart quicken when she saw Eivor fight. Every punch, each grunt and bellow he roared, made her skin flush hot. When the 22-year-old stood over the groaning men, with his arms folded across his chest and with a triumphant smirk formed upon his face, the warm alluring gush of arousal had flowed down her legs. Randvi was attracted.

No one from either clan said anything about his name after that. No one dared. 

Though Eivor had another name. 

The Ravens called him Wolf-Kissed. 

Sigurd told Randvi of how he got the scars on his neck and on the back of his head, all at the age of nine years old. He told it with the same enthusiasm as any skald would in the stories of the gods, with lots of emphases but without the need for exaggeration. 

Such an experience, especially for a child, must have been awful for Eivor, but Randvi found herself admiring and loving him more, with how he had endured in the years since, how much stronger he was because of it. He fought with the savageness and wildness of the one who had given them those scars, he had the power of Wolf in his veins. 

Being in Eivor’s presence was an experience she quickly came to crave, more so than being with her betrothed. He was not merely a warrior, for Evior had a poet’s soul too. While his singing voice wasn’t the best, Randvi loved to listen to the deep yet soft tones of his voice when he sung and told stories. 

She felt happy when Eivor was around, complete and content. Even watching him eat at the feasting table, excitement fluttered and burned pleasantly within her, as if she had fireflies in her stomach. 

However, to reunite the clans and to bring peace, Randvi had to put her feelings aside and do what was best for her people. She had to marry Sigurd.

She was sad about her wedding night. Sad it wasn’t Eivor with her and sad for Sigurd, because he didn’t deserve this. He deserved a good wife, dutiful and loyal… she could learn to love him. Couldn’t she? 

Their marriage was not helped when he left to go Viking. Eivor had remained and it was difficult to not give in to her desires, to tell him how she really felt. It was a sharp pain that never went away. 

Randvi always thought Eivor might return her feelings. She hoped that Eivor would mention anything of how he felt, to help ease her aching heart but during all those years, likely out of honour and respect for his brother, he never made a move, never said a word. 

Until the day, in England, when took her out of the Ravensthorpe settlement and spent a day with her Grantsbridge. When she kissed him, the look of surprise… and sadness on his face was more than she could bear. 

The word “friend” hurt him when Eivor spoke it. He looked distraught, and guilty, knowing that he was hurting her too. But Randvi was strong, as she always has been and accepted that nothing would ever be more between them. Eivor looked as if he wanted to tell her something else, but he couldn’t, for what just happened cut too deep. For both of them.


	4. My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drunk howling squirrel, the beginning of a new bond, and a comforting doze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, this is the companion chapter to chapter 3. 
> 
> This has a fluffy piece with Eivor/Tarben, which I really enjoyed writing, and I hope you will too. I've also set up the other pairing I want to include in this story, and which I'm just as excited for. 
> 
> I want to mention also, that when I played the game (still playing actually, at nearly 250 hours) the first time I was attacked by chickens I was so freaked out, I got turned around and completely lost the plot. Now I have a little headcanon that our favourite drengr doesn't like them very much. 
> 
> Anyways, do enjoy reading!
> 
> \-------------------------------------

“Eivor!” 

The young Norseman was laughing and was now leaping up onto and over, literally every building in his path. It was not unusual for Eivor to do this, and why some people were still surprised at having him scurry over their rooftops, Tarben had no idea, because the man could climb anything without fear of falling, or death. 

This man wasn’t afraid of anything, though it was noticed he didn’t like being around chickens, or fowl of any kind. He kept his distance from them and was very weary. 

The celebrations of Tekla’s name day had involved a lot of drinking. Eivor did more than his fair share, beating practically everyone who challenged him. He was drunk, Tarben was too (Tekla’s birthday mead was far too potent) but the younger man was adorably so, as he smiled and laughed a lot more than usual. 

However, his wobbling and staggering steps did have Tarben concerned that his lover would lose balance and fall. He cautioned Eivor, but his warnings were met with deaf ears.

So, all he could do was watch from the ground and follow as Eivor somehow jumped from house to tree, to post, and even along a washing line, with ease. Gradually the worry subsided and was replaced with admiration and love. 

“You’re like a little busy squirrel, Eivor!” Tarben blurted out, laughing as his lover perched on the end of the roof. 

“Pah! I’m no squirrel, Master baker!” Eivor mocked offense, then giggling like a boy he proceeded to howl like a wolf. 

Tarben sighed. He was definitely in love. 

Here, swaying drunkenly on the wooden beam of Viggo’s home, was the bravest, strongest warrior he had ever met. This man who had just belched and thought it hilarious is the man who could singlehandedly take on a Saxon fortress and have bandits running away in fear. This man is the Jarl's brother, he leads the raiding parties… he is their most powerful drengr and he's yowling like an infant in play. 

As Eivor continued to howl, Dwolfga replied from wherever he was in the settlement and set off other the wolves in the surrounding forest. It was a bizarre spectacle, but by no means, Eivor was beautiful to watch. 

Tarben thought back to they first met. He was attracted to Eivor, there was no doubt about that, though the bizarre greeting he got from Eivor did have him somewhat puzzled, even more so as the Jarl was greatly amused by his brother’s behaviour. The two had playfully bickered as brothers only did, leaving Tarben in a daze as to what had just happened. For the rest of that day, his mind thought constantly of Eivor Varinsson. 

The Norsemen built Tarben's bakery, eventually, and Eivor’s continual kindness towards him only warmed Tarben’s fondness for him further. 

For a long time, he said nothing about his growing affections for Eivor, afraid that such declarations from another man would be met with disgust and he would have to leave. Yet Eivor always found the time to come and see him, and when Eivor asked to spend some time together, Tarben was overjoyed. 

The fishing trip that afternoon had truly been one of the most peaceful and happiest moments in Tarben’s life. A few days after Eivor helped burn the ledger and Tarben's past, Tarben had confessed his feelings and plucked up the courage to ask if he could kiss Eivor. A silent nod and a beautiful smile led to more than their first kiss, and the next morning Tarben woke with the Wolf-Kissed in his arms. 

It was on that morning, as they'd lain together in Tarben's bed, still wet, sore, and blissfully drowsed, they made a commitment to each other. 

From then on, they met up whenever they could. They would fish quietly together or unleash their competitive sides with games of Orlog and drinking contests. Tarben missed Eivor when he was away, but when the Longboat returned… they always made up for lost time. 

Eivor swayed and nearly toppled off the roof of Viggo’s grain farm. Tarben called out in panic, but fortunately, Eivor regained his balance and started laughing. 

“I’m alright, Tarben! I’m perfeshly balanced!” 

“Perfeshly balanced?! You are drunk, Wolf-Kished!” 

Eivor looked down at Tarben and scowled. From her perch on a tree nearby, Synin cawed and bobbed her head, as if agreeing with Tarben. Eivor then turned his scowl to the Raven. 

Tarben thought the bird laughed as she flew away, which was greatly amusing, but then he could only watch in disbelief as Eivor, in an attempt to show he wasn’t drunk, held out his arms and jumped from the roof of the farm. He landed, rolled effortlessly back onto his feet and carried on sprinting away.

Something hit Tarben in the face. Pulling it off, dazed and suddenly very aroused by the heavy scent of Eivor’s sweat permeating his nostrils, he looked around and caught a glimpse of his now half-naked drengr, smoothly leaping up into the tree. Eivor moved quickly along the branches like a busy little squirrel, so Tarben discarded Eivor’s shirt and gave chase.

He found Evior prancing around in the pool behind Valka’s hut, like an excited wolf cub. It was beyond adorable. 

For a moment, he was enraptured by the way Eivor played, how enthusiastically he splashed at the water before quivering like a pup to shake off the droplets, but such eagerness (and excessive mead) made Eivor fall flat on his rear with a hefty thud. Tarben sighed and chuckled as he waded over to him and held his hand out.

“Come on my little Wolf-cub. I shall escort you back to the longhouse.” 

Eivor grabbed hold and was pulled up into Tarben’s arms, causing them both to stagger in circles. 

“I’m happy here.” 

“You are?” Tarben asked as they embraced and he stroked the length of Eivor’s braid in a soothing manner.

“Very happy. I can be myself with you, Tarben.” 

Eivor pulled away and looked up at Tarben with a mischievous smile. His palm cupped at Tarben’s cheek and stroked lovingly at his beard, before pulling his hair loose from it’s bun and dragging him down for a very heated and mead flavoured kiss. 

It was supposed to be a growl, but just like when they first met, a whine escaped Eivor’s mouth. Tarben chuckled in mid-kiss, but he knew what it meant. 

“Here?” He growled deeply, pushing Eivor back towards the rocks by the waterfall as their hands began to roam and grope. 

“With you, I would anywhere.” 

The two men laughed, and their kisses became frantic and clumsy as Tarben pinned Eivor to the rocks. 

\-------------------------------------------

“You seem surprised, Jarlskona.” 

Randvi was frozen to the steps of Valka’s hut, watching the couple beneath the waterfall as they kissed, their hands fumbling and tearing at the fastenings on each other’s breeches with ferocious desperation. 

They were laughing, and seeing their joy and intimacy did make the hurt of Eivor’s rejection of her affections lessen somewhat, but Randvi was surprised. At herself. 

All this time, Randvi realised she had been too caught up in her own feelings for Eivor to notice his. The signs had been there from the beginning, but she never saw. She had never wanted to see. 

When Eivor first met the baker, his smile had been sly, and a rather bizarre whine had escaped his mouth, at which Sigurd shook his head in dismay and laughed, but Tarben had looked pleasantly confused at. 

The fact that Eivor bowed to the newcomer had seemed silly to her at the time, yet now the intention was clear. The graceful bowing action was something she’d seen wolves do, when declaring themselves as a mate. 

The _“Nice to meet you, Eivor”_ Tarben responded with, in a deeper, growling Germanic tone, had Eivor immediately puff out his chest in a bid to show his dominance, despite Tarben being a head taller and of stockier build. 

“I…knew,” Randvi said, “I guess I’ve always known, but I couldn’t…didn’t want to…” 

The Seer stood in front of Randvi and took her hands in hers, with a rare and soft smile on her face. 

“Don’t blame yourself, my Lady…when you are in love, you are often blinded and do not see. It’s also understandable when Eivor has been hiding that part of himself, for most of his life. Fear of ridicule, of shame…of dishonour, they are powerful factors.” 

Randvi nodded in understanding. “But Eivor isn’t afraid. He’s not weak, Valka.” 

“Everyone is afraid of something, yes? He isn’t weak, far from it, but Eivor is afraid. Not for himself, Jarlskona. He has been mocked and considered unmanly because of his name, you know this… but he’s proved them all wrong, he’s shown them he is fiercer and stronger than they would ever hope to be.” 

Randvi nodded. “He bears his name proudly and without shame, but…?” 

“He fears for this clan, for the safety of all who reside in Ravensthorpe. He’s been all over England, built alliances and a reputation for Sigurd and the Ravens people. He is afraid for the safety of his kin and all he loves, for it us who will bear the impact of the actions from those with lesser minds. Eivor has kept his true self hidden to protect us all. He has found love now and with his Saxon, the Wolf-Kissed will find the true path to the Gods.” 

Hearing that made Randvi feel proud. She took in a deep breath and released it. 

Sigurd hadn’t returned to the settlement in some time now, and Eivor had been left in charge. Such responsibility, combined with having to suppress a part of himself, she couldn’t imagine what Eivor had gone through. So, she was happy that he had the love he wanted and needed, and she knew Tarben to be a good man, for him. 

A friend. She would be a friend to Eivor. She loved him in a way he couldn’t reciprocate, but she accepted it, knowing that eventually, her love will change into a different kind, one that was just as strong. Yet, she couldn’t help to still feel the loss. 

Valka gently squeezed Randvi’s hands and let one hand rise to rest against her chest. 

“I know the pain in your heart, Jarlskona,” Valka whispered, “and how it has been there for so long. More pain will come in your future, I foresee it, but do not fret… the fates will not let your thread fray and wither. You will have the bond that’ll bring happiness and joy to your heart.” 

What did that mean? What pain did Valka see in Randvi’s future? There were many questions she wanted to ask, but it seemed the answer she longed for wouldn’t be possible to hear. 

If Eivor was not destined for her… would her marriage with Sigurd start anew when he returns? Could she learn to love him and have children with him, a family? 

“Perhaps, Jarlskona, the answers you seek will become clear in due time.” Valka smirked and moved away from Randvi to sit upon the steps. She angled her head as some very vocal and pleasured sounds came from the waterfall. 

Randvi heard too, and she couldn’t help but smile at Eivor’s expressive use of language. She knew her friends were enjoying themselves, but she wanted to be elsewhere. 

“Perhaps you should brush up on your archery skills, Randvi?” Valka suggested, her tone ominous yet teasing. “Someone could be there to help you?” 

Such a statement confused Randvi and she would have asked, but the Seer looked away from her and closed her eyes, ending the conversation. It was time for her to leave. 

So, Randvi walked away, leaving Eivor to enjoy the rest of this evening. Her intentions were to go back to the Longhouse, but she wandered the settlement and surprisingly found herself at the archery range. 

Someone was there. 

“Good evening, Randvi. It’s a lovely surprise to see you here.” 

Randvi smiled and walked over to pick up a bow leaning against a post. 

“Good evening to you too, Petra.” 

\---------------------------------

It wasn’t hard to find, he could’ve tracked this from miles away. Even though his scent was everywhere in this village, the discarded item of clothing was heavy with his smell, and it felt comforting. 

So, it was more than ideal to have a nap on. 

Dwolfga circled and pawed at Eivor’s shirt a few times and then curled up into a ball to have a doze.


End file.
